


To Catch a Thief

by Rinshi



Series: A Snowball's Chance [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Meihem - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8532316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinshi/pseuds/Rinshi
Summary: When something of Mei's goes missing, Jamison "Junkrat" Fawkes offers to help her find it, but what they find instead might just be more than they bargained for. Can Mei reconcile their burgeoning friendship with the junker's criminal past?This work follows Handle With Care.





	

Mei rummaged through her purse and was forced to come to an irritating conclusion: her wallet was gone. She spun around to face the man standing behind her and placed one hand on her hip with the other out in front of her, palm up.

“Give it back, Jamie,” she demanded quietly, as though addressing a misbehaving child.

The tall Aussie cocked a golden eyebrow at her as he took a long lick of the ice cream cone she had handed him moments before. The sticky-sweet scent of sugar hung heavily in the air around them.

“Give wot back?” he asked around his ice cream, the picture of indifference.

“My _wallet_.”

“Hm,” he mused, playing up thinking it over for a moment, “Nope.”

“Jamison, I need it to pay for our ice cream,” Mei growled, darting in to lick her own cone before it dripped on her hand.

“Why wouldja wanna _pay_ fer ice cream?” Jamison chuckled, grinning as he took another bite.

“Because that's what _normal people_ do!” Mei hissed. She was trying to keep her voice low and avoid a scene, but already the people in line behind them were beginning to scowl and cross their arms.

She had at least gotten Jamison to clean up a little and wear something over his usually bare torso (a ratty black tank with “What a Lovely Day!” scrawled across it in a messy orange font under a long, green wool coat), but they had still unsurprisingly drawn a number of stares when they had entered the shop. The other patrons had given them a wide berth in line, probably due at least in part to the smell that followed wherever Jamison went, which only made Mei want to get out of the shop as soon as possible.

“Is there a problem, ma’am?” the cashier asked, and Mei turned with a flustered smile to the young man, a gawky, pimply-faced teen with sandy blonde hair.

“Ah, just one moment, I’m very sorry,” she told him before rounding on Jamison again.

“Jamie, _please,_ ” she pleaded, but he only shrugged.

“Sorry, Snowball. Can't help ya,” he told her.

Mei sighed. If she’d had her blaster, the lanky junker would be encased in a solid block of ice right now. Of course, here in public they couldn't afford the attention such an altercation would draw, not with Overwatch being outlawed. She needed to resolve this quickly and peacefully, and the best way to do that was probably to remove Junkrat from the scene entirely.

“Just… go back to base,” she grumbled, “I’ll take care of this.”

Jamison shrugged again and turned to saunter out of the shop while Mei turned back to the cashier.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she told him, “but I can’t find my wallet. Is there another way I can pay you? I could wash dishes or…”

She looked at the bracelet on her wrist, the pale blue beads and snowflake charm sparkling under the fluorescent lights of the shop. She was loathe to part with it, but…

“Could I pay with this?” she offered with the most apologetic smile she could manage, and the young man shuffled uncomfortably.

“Um, I think I need to get my manager,” the cashier said, and Mei could hear the other patrons groaning and sighing in frustration.

“She must be pretty stupid to be with that tall weirdo,” Mei overheard a woman behind her muttering, “He’s a freak _and_ an asshole.”

“Yeah,” another female voice agreed, snickering, “And did you hear his accent? He’s probably a _Junker._ Who would want to date  _that?_ ”

Mei dipped her head as her cheeks colored, fidgeting with the hem of her cream and pink skirt and hoping that her bangs would hide her face. She was all too aware of how it must look for her and Jamison to be out together, but it didn't feel worth it to correct the strangers’ assumption. After all, she did feel pretty stupid for even agreeing to come out with Jamie. It's not like he had asked her on a proper date or anything. She should have known he was just going to embarrass her, though she hadn't expected to feel quite this humiliated.

As the cashier was turning to go toward the back room a looming shadow thrust a mechanical arm at him. Mei looked up to see Jamison, face flushed and scowling, as he dropped a handful of crumpled bills on the counter.

“ _Here_ ,” he spat, then he put his arm around Mei's shoulders and maneuvered her toward the door.

“C’mon, Snowball. Let's get outta here,” he muttered, glaring daggers at a pair of women halfway back in line who were both suddenly very busy with something on their phones.

Mei was quite confused by Jamison’s behavior as he guided her out of the shop and into the chill November air, until at last they had walked down the street a ways and he mumbled, “Oi don’t give a hoot what they say ‘bout _me_ , but… ya ain't stupid, ok?”

“O-oh,” Mei stammered back, “I, uh... thank you.”

She busied herself with her ice cream for a bit, unsure of what else to say. She’d gotten blue raspberry while Jamison had, to her surprise, gone with plain vanilla. She’d half expected him to get five different flavors and every topping the poor shop boy could manage.

“Prob’ly owned by a buncha _suits_ ,” Jamison was muttering to himself, “If I had me _gear_ I’d ‘a blown the place off the bloody map...”

He trailed off into incomprehensible grumbling while he munched on his cone. Mei cleared her throat.

“Why didn't you just give me back my wallet?” she asked, looking up at Jamison's profile.

“Can't give back what I ain't got,” he replied, “and, contrariwise ta what ya so rudely assumed, I didn't nick yer wallet.”

Mei stopped dead in her tracks.

“Then where is it?” she asked, dread rising.

“Ya prob’ly left it back at base,” Jamison offered, popping the end of his ice cream cone into his mouth.

“No,” Mei insisted, “I checked to make sure I had it before we went into the shop.”

She opened her purse again and dug through it, even moved to the edge of the sidewalk to set it down and empty a few things out of it. Still no sign of her wallet. She held the bag out, open, distress writ plain on her face.

“See? It’s not here!” she cried.

Jamie hooked a finger on the edge of the bag and looked in, practically sticking his nose into it.

“Huh,” he said, “Yer sure ya had it?”

“Yes! I know I did!”

“So...” he muttered, standing back up, “some other drongo nicked it and _Oi_ didn’t notice. And that means… that they’re _good_.”

“Wait, you mean… someone _actually_ stole my wallet? For real?” Mei gaped. Since she had simply assumed that Jamison had taken it on a lark, the possibility that someone had actually stolen it hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jamison replied with a dismissive wave, “Gimme a sec here.”

Mei watched in growing fascination as Jamison’s gaze turned hazy and unfocused. Slowly he placed a hand on either side of his head, neck bent and fingers flexed, as his eyes darted rapidly from side to side, unseeing. Mei wanted to ask what he was doing, but she was also afraid to interrupt whatever it was.

At first Jamison’s expression was blank, but then a manic grin broke across his face as his eyes seized on something Mei couldn’t see.

“Gotcha,” he growled triumphantly, “Ya can’t hide from me, ya cheeky mongrel…”

“What do you mean?” Mei asked slowly, looking at him askance.

Jamison straightened and flashed Mei a smug grin.

“He was wearin’ a blue cap an’ red shirt,” he replied, “Sketchy lookin’ fella with dark hair, had a tattoo on his left wrist of a bird. That’s the bloke what nicked yer wallet.”

With great effort Mei stopped her jaw from dropping. Jamie usually couldn’t remember what he’d eaten for breakfast; how the hell did he just recall the wallet thief in intimate detail?

“How… How did you do that?” she gaped.

Jamison practically preened as he placed an arm around Mei’s shoulders again and started leading her back the way they had come.

“Ah, y’know how it go,” he told her, “Ya pick up a skill or two here an’ there when yer survivin’ out in the wastes.”

“That's not just a skill, Jamie,” Mei said, “That's a _talent_. People can't just learn to have memory like that.”

“Aw, yer gonna make me blush, Snowball,” Jamison chortled, “It ain't somethin’ I do every day, y’know? Takes a lotta, eh, _concentration_ , and I just ain't got the patience, mate.”

That wasn't terribly surprising. Mei knew quite well that Jamison was not exactly a man of poise and self-control. That he possessed such a photographic memory, however, that _was_ quite a shock. Was it an effect of the radiation during his formative years in the outback? The more time Mei spent with Jamison, the more he seemed to surprise her in ways she could never predict.

“Where are we going?” Mei asked as they continued walking past the ice cream shop.

“He went off this way,” Jamison replied, “Doncha worry, Snowball. I’ll find ‘im for ya.”

“Jamie… Why are you doing this for me?”

“Eh?” he looked at her quizzically.

“You don't need to go through all of this trouble,” she explained, “Why did you even invite me to come out with you? Why do all of this?”

“Well we're friends, ain't we? And _nobody_ steals from my friends but me.”

Mei blinked in surprise as she felt her cheeks grow slightly hot.

“W-we’re… You, um,” she stammered, “I mean… You consider me your friend?”

“‘Course Oi do!” he replied, squeezing his arm around her shoulders and affectionately ruffling her hair with his other hand, “Didn't Oi tell ya I’ve taken a shine ta ya?”

Mei shoved him off with an irritated grunt and tried to piece her hair back into place. Jamison only laughed and thrust his hands in his pockets, whistling tunelessly as they walked down the street.

It wasn't long before Mei saw him: a fit man with dark hair under a blue cap, wearing a red tee shirt and sporting a tattoo of a bird on the inside of his left wrist, just as Jamison had described him. He was leaning against a corner, just another stranger on a busy street, but he did something that Mei didn’t expect.

He looked right at her and smiled. It was a very brief but quite deliberate flash of teeth accompanied by a knowing wink before the man quickly turned down the alley next to him and disappeared.

“Jami-”

“I seen ‘im,” Jamison cut in, “an’ somethin’ ain’t right. Ya’d best stay back, Snowball.”

“I can handle myself!” she snapped, bristling, “Or did you forget that I’ve been in Overwatch longer than you?”

“An’ _Oi_ been livin’ on the streets since I was eight,” Jamison retorted, “an’ it ain't the same as a battlefield. So stay behind me an' try not ta do anythin’ _heroic._ ”

He was moving before Mei could press the issue further, beelining for the alleyway, and she trotted after him with a scowl. They peered down the alley, but the man was no longer in sight. Mei pulled her denim jacket tighter around herself, a gesture that had nothing to do with the current weather. The alleyway was a dead end, so how had the thief disappeared? Mei’s gut tightened as she wondered what exactly they were about to get themselves into.

“Do you think it's a Talon trap?” she whispered.

“Dunno,” Jamison whispered back, “Only one way ta find out!”

He flashed her a grin and strolled calmly into the alleyway.

She was about to whisper, “Are you insane?!” after him, but then she remembered who she was dealing with and put her face in her hand instead. Mei sighed and ducked into the alley behind him: she couldn't just let him go _alone_ , after all. Halfway down the alley, though, there was still no sign.

“Come on out, mate!” Jamison called boldly, “Pretty obvious you was waitin’ fer us, so why don’t we have a nice chat?”

“You want to chat? All right. Let’s chat,” said a voice from behind them, smooth as silk with an American accent.

They spun around to see the man standing between them and the mouth of the alley, just a few yards away from where Mei stood. His arms were crossed in front of him, a smug grin plastered on his face. His heritage was difficult to determine, perhaps being mixed, and he had a strange combination of facial features: a round face with an aquiline nose under large eyes. Rather like an owl, Mei thought. Where had he been hiding? Mei’s gaze quickly flicked around the alley, but she didn’t see anything he could have been using for cover. She hadn’t even heard him move up behind them.

“What do you want?” Mei asked, her hands balling into fists,  “Why did you steal my wallet?”

“Your wallet?” he laughed, “You can’t possibly think _that’s_ what this is all about. I already forgot I took it. Stealing it was simply a means to an end, after all. I couldn’t care less about the thing.”

He pulled it out of a pocket and held it up in his left hand to wave at her.

“Want it back?” he teased,“Why don’t you come and get it?”

Mei gritted her teeth as she looked at her wallet in his hand, and then the tattoo on his wrist. It wasn’t just any bird, it was an owl - an owl with its talons outstretched.

“Then this _was_ a trap,” she muttered, and she added, louder, “You’re with Talon, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps,” he replied, “Not that it matters. I’m not here on their orders. Just another means to an end. You’re _my_ target.”

A gun appeared so quickly in his right hand that it was almost like magic. He pointed it at them, his face twisting into an ugly snarl.

“ _Junkrat_ ,” he spat the name like curse.

“Have we met?” Jamison asked with a sneer, “Have Oi done somethin’ ta deserve such _venom?_ ”

“Have you _done something?_ ” the man echoed, “That’s rich. Would you like the list to be _alphabetical?_ ”

He advanced toward them, calmly keeping the gun trained on them, and Jamison grabbed Mei to roughly push her behind him.

“You are nothing but a rabid dog,” the man said, his voice low and the gun inches from Jamison’s chest, “and I ought to put you down like one.”

“Please stop!” Mei cried, “If Talon didn't send you here, _why_ are you doing this?!”

For a long moment the man and Jamison stared each other down, and then something strange happened. A ripple seemed to pass over the man, shifting his appearance slightly like he was underwater, before he changed completely. His face still looked roughly the same, but now he was wearing tight-fitting black tactical gear, a webbing harness for his gun, two kukri blades and an assortment of pouches. An apparatus with a golden yellow lens fit over his right eye.

“I am known as Strix,” he told them, “I’m a member of Talon, yes, but this dog has been my enemy for longer than that.”

“Oi, it's Junk _rat_. I ain't no dog,” Jamison sniffed, and Mei saw Strix’s jaw clench.

“Don't provoke him,” she hissed, and Strix chuckled mirthlessly.

“You should listen to your little scientist friend,” he said, “She’s clearly more intelligent than you.”

“Hey, Oi know me brains’re a bit scrambled,” Jamison grinned, “That ain’t news ta me. Seriously, though, wouldja just get to the _point_ , mate? What’ve ya got against me?”

“The fact that Overwatch let a criminal like you into their ranks frankly boggles my mind,” Strix sneered, “Although you’re _all_ criminals now, aren’t you? _You_ just have a longer record.

“Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fawkes, the explosive-obsessed freak with a knack for thievery and a penchant for mayhem. You left an international swath of destruction in your wake before Overwatch put a leash on you.”

“Me reputation precedes me!” Jamison laughed with an exaggerated bow, “Yeah, me an’ Hog did some of our best work on that little spree…”

“Ah, yes. I’m sure Talon would be only too happy to congratulate you on that” Strix said coolly, “but while I’m part of Talon, I am not them. Tell me: do you even care how long the list of casualties from your ‘work’ is? Don’t answer: the question is rhetorical, if you even understand what that means. I already know the answer: of course you don't care. The only thing you care about is yourself.”

Mei thought she could sense where the conversation was headed, and the knot of dread in her gut solidified into a lead weight.

“Yeah, so?” Jamison sneered, “I only got this one life, so what’s the point ‘a livin’ it for anyone but me? Sorry if Hoggie and I nicked yer dolly or somethin’, ‘cept not really cuz Oi don't give a shit. Oi take what I want an’ kill anyone what deserves it, so-.”

He was cut off by the report of a gunshot. Jamison staggered back a step and slapped his prosthetic hand over his left shoulder. Blood began to trickle between his fingers, his flippant grin darkening into a grimace.

“My _wife and daughter_ did not deserve to die,” Strix whispered into the deafening silence that followed, his one visible eye narrowed to a slit.

Mei placed a hand over her mouth and screwed her eyes shut for a moment, her stomach doing a backflip. She had read Jamison’s files. She knew about his past; not the details, maybe, but enough. The vicious criminal Junkrat had always seemed so far away, though, so detached from the goofy and somehow likable Jamie she had only just begun to know.

For his part, Jamison looked rather confused through his pain.

“Yer… wife an’ kid?” he said slowly.

“Did you think that _blowing up buildings_ didn't hurt anyone except who you wanted?” Strix growled, “Are you really so selfish and stupid that you didn't _once_ stop to consider that your actions might have consequences?”

He kept the gun pointed at Jamison, and Mei looked to the mouth of the alley. Surely someone had heard the gunshot and would come to investigate. That might at least give them an opening to…

To do what? Run away? Retaliate? They were both unarmed, and what was worse, Mei wasn’t entirely certain that Strix was wrong. If what he was saying was true, then Jamison had effectively murdered his family, and Mei wasn't exactly in any position to condemn vigilante justice.

Regardless, it seemed that no one had taken notice of their quarrel. Passersby walked calmly down the street past them as if they weren’t even there, blissfully unaware of the conflict. Was Strix somehow using the same technology he had used to hide from them to hide all of them from anyone outside the alley?

“I don't care who you were aiming at,” Strix continued, his voice growing hoarse, “or if you weren’t even aiming at anyone at all. When you're throwing _bombs_ around, sometimes they hit things like the sides of apartment buildings, and sometimes _that_ causes tons of steel and concrete to crush the people inside. You never even thought of that, did you?”

A manic grin broke across Jamison's face, but Mei thought she saw a flicker of something else in his eyes. Was it doubt or...?

“Ya know, Strixy,” he said, “Ya ain’t exactly in a position ta be throwin’ stones. It’s true Oi find nothin’ more beautiful than brilliant fires an’ plumes ‘a smoke; the force, the _sound_ . It's an _art_ , mate. But Talon ain’t exactly the _boy scouts_.”

Mei noticed that as he spoke Jamison’s left hand was slowly creeping toward the elbow of his prosthetic arm. He took a small knob between his fingers and began to twist it, his torso and arm turned just so to hide the knob from Strix’s view. A hidden weapon? Then was Jamison’s bravado just an act to stall for time?

“Ya can’t be any stranger ta collateral damage yerself,” he went on, “Don’t exactly give ya any real ground ta be lecturin’ _me_.”

“Don’t presume to compare yourself to me,” Strix sneered, and he flickered out of existence with another rippling wave.

Mei and Jamison both tensed; whatever optics Strix was using were damn good. He was effectively invisible, and that meant they were vulnerable. The seconds ticked by eternally as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of Mei’s face despite the cool air. Jamison seemed to sense something and whirled toward Mei just as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. He reached for her, but a powerful arm wrapped around her and pulled her away from him.

She felt the hard muzzle of a gun press against her temple and was aware of a slight distortion in the air around her before Strix faded back into view with his arm around her neck and shoulders. The pistol against her head was still warm.

“You made a big mistake taking your little girlfriend here out with you instead of your bodyguard,” Strix said with a smirk, then he cocked his head to one side, “ _I_ _s_ she your girlfriend? I just assumed with how disgustingly awkward you two were being around each other.”

For once Jamison didn’t seem to have a witty comeback ready. He looked uncertain and somewhat pained as he stood, paralyzed, and looked back and forth between Mei and Strix.

“What’s wrong?” Strix taunted, “You’re not going to tell me that you actually _care_ about someone other than yourself? Or are you just worried what your new masters in Overwatch might think if you let her die?”

Mei winced as he jabbed the gun harder against her head. She tried to force herself to calm down and think clearly. There had to be a way out of the situation.

“Taking a hostage is awfully hypocritical, don’t you think?” she said, her mind racing, “You were so high and mighty just a minute ago.”

“Well, what can I say?” Strix replied, “I _am_ a member of Talon after all. I do have my own code, but there is such a thing as acceptable losses. My wife and daughter were _not_ acceptable. I doubt many will mourn the passing of a criminal, though… or a half-forgotten scientist.”

Mei grit her teeth. “Half-forgotten” her foot! She was still one of the most respected climatologists in the world!

“Now,” said Strix, turning his gaze to Jamison with a smirk, “if you do exactly as I say I might just let her live, so remove your prosthetics or I _will_ kill her.”

He tightened his arm around Mei as if that would prove his point. His attention seemed to be mainly focused on Jamison, however, and Mei carefully considered her next move. Jamie bit his lip and drummed his fingers against his palms before he began to reach slowly for his peg leg.

“Don't listen to him!” Mei urged, “You know he’ll just kill us both!”

“Shut up!” Strix barked, “Take off the arm first.”

“Oi need both hands ta take me leg off,” Jamison snapped, and Mei watched helplessly as he removed his prosthetic leg and tossed it to the ground in front of Strix with a clang. It was hard to see in the dim light of the alley, but Mei caught a flush to Jamie’s cheeks as he balanced awkwardly on one foot.

Strix chuckled in his throat behind her, clearly enjoying Jamison’s humiliation.

“Good,” he purred, “ _Now_ do the arm.”

For a moment Jamison hesitated, and Mei could sense Strix growing tense.

“Jamie, don't!” she cried again, taking a gamble.

“Shut _up!_ ” Strix snarled, then he pointed the gun at Jamison, “I said _take it off!”_

As soon as the gun was off her, Mei raised her right foot and slammed her chunky-booted heel straight into the top of Strix’s foot as hard as she could. He howled in pain, and as he bent his head forward Mei jumped, head butting him in the face. A quick thrill of satisfaction passed through her as she felt something crunch. Strix stumbled back as Mei darted forward out of his grip, bending over to pick up Jamison’s leg and toss it back toward him. He snatched it out of the air and immediately set to reattaching it, already switching to be on the offensive.

Mei whirled around to face Strix, the latter hunched and yelling wordlessly as he pressed a hand over his nose. Blood dripped from his chin and between his fingers. His eyes were screwed shut against the pain but they flickered open long enough to lock onto Jamison, who was just clicking his leg into place. Even though it was Mei who had injured him, it was clear that Strix was not about to let his true target get away. He raised his pistol, his finger tightened on the trigger, and Mei’s body moved on it’s own.

It felt like she had just stepped in front of a professional baseball player with a sledge hammer. There was pain and a burning sensation as though someone had shoved a chunk of flaming charcoal into her chest. Her legs didn’t seem to want to support her anymore and began to crumple beneath her. Strong arms grabbed her from behind and guided her gently to the ground, lying her on her back. There was a spreading red stain on her blouse, on her left side, just above her breast. Blood. She was bleeding. She pressed her hand against it, but the blood just wouldn’t stop spreading. Jamie was working quickly over her, unwinding the scarf he was wearing to shove under her hand and shedding his jacket to place gently under her head. He seemed numb, somehow, his face strangely blank as his hands moved in a nimble flurry.

“Fucking bitch broke my nose,” Strix was muttering thickly through his blood and shattered nasal bones. He had dribbled a fair amount of blood on his gun, so he fished a cloth out of a pocket to wipe it off.

When Jamison had finished tending to Mei as much as he could, he turned his attention to Strix and that blank look changed in an instant.

Mei had never seen him look so savage.

During downtime, when they were back at base or out pretending to be normal people, Jamison was usually fairly calm. He could be capricious and playful, and was something of a prankster, but it was rare to see his darker, more threatening side. That changed on the battlefield. During the heat of battle was when Jamison’s madness took a firm hold of him, and it was the only time Mei feared him. He could easily become completely caught up in his explosive obsession, placing friend and foe alike in danger. In those circumstances they often had to rely on Mako to keep Jamison under control.

This was different. There was no unhinged grin, no maniacal giggling. Jamison _growled_ as he whipped out whatever he had been hiding in his prosthetic arm and flung it at Strix with deadly intent. There was a loud concussion and a bright flash as Strix turned and leapt from the device and rolled away, singed. Jamison was instantly leaping after him through the smoke, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a predatory snarl, eyes aglow with burning rage.

A swift kick to Strix’s gun arm and the weapon went skittering across the pavement. Jamison followed it up with a swing at Strix’s bloodied face, but the Talon operative ducked away and rolled to his feet. He rubbed his arm that Jamison had struck, scowling, before he drew his two kukri and smirked. With a ripple he vanished.

Jamison tensed, eyes wild as he jerked his head from one side to the other, searching. He removed another hidden explosive from the elbow of his prosthetic and rolled it around in his fingers. He took a step back, then two, before he turned and flung his prosthetic arm up in front of him. There was a _clang!_ and a slight ripple in the air in front of Jamison as he blocked a strike from Strix’s blades. Jamison jumped back and threw the mini bomb at where Strix had been. Another blast, but this one seemed to miss completely. Jamison smiled, though, and the air around them seemed to shimmer.

“Gotcha,” Jamison growled.

He removed another bomb and tossed it down the alley, causing another loud bang, and this time there were shouts of surprise and alarm from the people out on the street. Strix rippled and flickered into view, his face twisted in anger as he advanced on Jamison. The junker dove out of the way and grabbed something off of the ground as he came up on his feet again and pointed it at Strix: his own gun.

“Oi reckon,” Jamison sneered as Strix came to an abrupt halt, “that without yer little _cloaking device_ or whatever we’ll prob’ly be attractin’ a fair bit ‘a attention. Does it go against yer _code_ if any poor, innocent civilians get hurt cuz of our little scrap? Or wouldja consider that ‘acceptable losses’?”

Strix clenched his jaw as a vein bulged on his forehead, his fists trembling at his sides. For a moment it seemed that he would throw himself at Jamison anyway, but then a few curious onlookers appeared at the mouth of the alley, shouting for someone to call the police.

“This isn’t over,” Strix snarled, pointing one of his kukri at Jamison before he backed away and flickered out of view again.

Things were getting very fuzzy for Mei, and it was starting to get awfully painful to breathe. Suddenly Jamison was at her side again, Strix’s gun still in his hand. His face was hard to read, but it was also just becoming hard for her to see.

“C’mon, Snowball,” he urged, “We gotta make tracks, and fast.”

Mei shook her head weakly and coughed. She felt something spatter on her lips, and Jamison’s face paled as he looked down on her. There was a slight gurgling sound when she breathed. Her lung was definitely punctured.

“I don’t… think I can get up,” she wheezed, “Just… leave me. Get out of here.”

“ _Not_ happenin’” Jamison told her, frowning, “Come on, I gotcha.”

He stashed the gun in a pocket and lifted her into his arms as gently as he could. Even so, she cried out in pain, and Jamison hissed through a pained grimace as well.

“Jamie,” Mei coughed, “You’re shot too. You can’t carry me.”

“Like hell Oi can’t,” he ground out through clenched teeth, “Now stay quiet an’ save yer strength.”

She wanted to protest further, but the darkness was eating away at the edge of her vision, and her tongue felt thick in her mouth. With her head cradled against Jamison’s chest, Mei’s nose was filled with his scent, of smoke and gunpowder and sweat, and the smell was strangely comforting as at last silence took her and her consciousness fled.

* * *

At first there was nothing but darkness, but gradually Mei became aware of light. It surrounded her and suffused her, growing brighter until everything around her was warm and white. For the second time in her life she wondered if she was dead.

Her eyes began to get used to the light, but she still couldn't make anything out. All she could see was varying shades of beige and white in fuzzy shapes. She tried to move but winced as pain lanced through her chest. If she could feel pain, then…

“Ah, you are awake,” said an accented female voice, “Good. You’ll want your glasses, yes?”

A blurry figure approached and gently placed Mei’s glasses on her. After a few blinks a familiar face came into focus.

“Angela?” Mei croaked, her voice a dry rasp, “Then… I’m not dead?”

“It was a near thing,” the doctor said gravely, “but thankfully I reached you in time. Well, it was Jamison who got you to me.

“Speaking of,” Angela continued with a sigh, “I should let him know that you're awake. The fool hasn't slept since he brought you back, and that was two days ago. He barely let me treat his own wounds, and I’m fairly certain he’s only eating anything because Mako forces him to.”

The door closed behind Angela, and Mei took a moment to finally examine her surroundings. She was in the medical quarters of the Watchpoint, a pale and sterile room with a single window through which wan sunlight shone. It was rather spartan in decor with a single chair in addition to the bed and medical equipment, and everything smelled vaguely of chemicals.

“Two days,” she whispered. Jamie hadn’t slept in two days because of her, because she had…

She reached up and gingerly touched the bandages on her chest. It was true, then, and not some strange dream: they had met the Talon operative named Strix, and she had stepped in front of his gun to take a bullet for Jamison Fawkes. Why? She hadn’t consciously chosen to do so; her body had just moved without her input to protect her comrade, a man with a criminal past whose actions had led to the death of Strix’s wife and daughter.

She lie in the bed with these thoughts rolling around her head for a while, uncertain what to make of them. Eventually she heard the doorknob turn, and the door slowly swung inward. A familiar pointed face peered through the opening, his bushy eyebrows knit together and his mouth set in an anxious line. Mei’s heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. What was she supposed to say? She tried offering him a weak smile instead, but for some reason that just made him look more worried.

“H-hey Jamie,” she finally stammered, the awkward silence suffocating, “How are you feeling? Is your shoulder all right?”

His eyebrows rose at that, but instead of replying he strode purposely into the room, crossing the short distance in moments to throw his arms around her, much to Mei’s surprise. The wound in her chest protested, but she bit her tongue.

“You bloody idiot,” he muttered, his voice shaking, “Look at ya, all laid up an’ pale, and yer askin’ me how _I’m_ doin’? Damn it, didn't Oi _tell_ ya not ta do anythin’ heroic?”

“I’m… sorry?” Mei wheezed, “Also, um, that hurts…”

Jamison released her like she was made of hot coals, fumbling out an apology as he wiped a hand across his face.

“Somethin’ in me eyes,” he mumbled, his cheeks red.

“You’re… you’re _clean_ ,” Mei observed, looking Jamison up and down, “Did you bathe?”

Jamie’s blush spread further across his face as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Dr. Mercy said I couldn’t see ya when ya woke up if Oi was dirty,” he told her, looking at the floor, “So, yeah.”

A laugh bubbled up in Mei’s throat, but then she grimaced as it made pain blossom in her chest. When she opened her eyes she saw a whirlwind mix of emotions cross Jamison’s face: pain, sadness, fear, shame, and anger.

He set his jaw and looked her square in the eyes, his fists clenched at his sides as a smoldering glow lit his golden eyes.

“Mei,” he said, his voice tight, “Don’tcha ever pull a stunt like that again. _Never._ Ya shouldn’t… Someone like you shouldn’t get hurt like that. Not fer someone like me. Not me. _Never_ me.”

He paused and looked away, closing his eyes as his lips trembled.

“Jamison-” Mei whispered.

“Why?” he blurted out, “Why wouldja _do_ somethin’ like that? I ain’t worth it. Ya heard what that Strix fella said. I ain’t a good person, Snowball. I ain’t worth savin’. I might be crazy, but I ain't stupid: I _know_ what I done. An’ I only ever cause ya grief. So why?”

Mei bit her lip as Jamison looked at her, his gaze searching. She fidgeted with the edge of the blanket that covered her, scratchy wool and smooth satin beneath her fingers, then she began to speak, haltingly at first, but growing stronger.

“I don’t really know myself,” she began, “You’re right. You’ve done some things in the past that I can’t really forgive you for. I always thought of you as a bully. You’ve stolen things, caused a lot of destruction. You’ve killed people, whether intentionally or not. Those _are_ terrible things, Jamison, but still… I couldn’t just let you die. What Strix was doing wasn’t right either. Fighting hatred with hatred just breeds more hatred.

“I think… I think maybe there _is_ no right answer,” she continued, “Maybe I can’t forgive the things you’ve done in the past, but I can try to accept the person you are now. People can change, Jamie. They can learn from their mistakes and get better and make things right.”

Jamison shook his head with a mirthless chuckle.

“I don’t think I can,” he whispered, his voice harsh, “Bit too late fer me.”

Mei reached out her right hand toward him, and after a moment of hesitation Jamison gingerly placed his hand in hers.

“You already have changed,” Mei told him with a gentle smile, “You could have killed Strix, but you didn’t. You let him go.”

A look of surprise stole across Jamison’s features as he stared at Mei in shock.

“You know,” Mei told him, giving his hand a squeeze, “now that I think of it, maybe there’s a simpler explanation for what I did.”

She flashed Jamison the biggest smile she could manage.

“We’re friends, ain’t we?” she said brightly in an absolutely terrible rendition of his accent.

For a long time neither of them said anything more, Mei holding Jamison’s hand tightly as silent tears streaked down his cheeks.

* * *

Bright sunlight peeked between the clouds and shone through bare branches as Jamison pushed Mei’s wheelchair past the big tree in the courtyard. She giggled as he spoke animatedly behind her, describing how Lena had managed to get herself caught upside down from a lamp post on their last mission. Their breath plumed out in front of them in the chill air, and Mei tucked her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat. Jamie pushed her until they reached the bench that sat at the end of the courtyard and he offered Mei a hand up.

“I’m fine, Jamie,” Mei protested, but she took his hand anyway, “I don’t know why Angela insists that I use a _wheelchair._ I can walk just fine.”

“Ya only woke up two days ago,” Jamison said sternly, “an yer still recoverin’, so ya need ta take it easy like.”

He helped her to the bench and sat her down before taking the seat next to her. He crossed his legs and placed his hands behind his head, inhaling deeply through his nose before blowing out a steamy plume with a giggle.

Mei couldn’t help but smile as a warm feeling spread through her. Another cloud passed in front of the sun, but she barely noticed.

“Looks like you’re taking care of me again,” she said with a small laugh.

“Ah, what’re friends for, eh?” Jamison replied, smiling.

They sat quietly a few moments before Jamison cleared his throat awkwardly and fumbled something out of the pocket of his coat.

“Oi, uh, got a little prezzie fer ya,” he mumbled, thrusting toward her a small bundle wrapped in dusky green paper, “Y’know, get well an’ all that.”

“Oh, thank you,” Mei replied, taking the parcel and holding it in her lap, “Should I, um, open it now?”

“If ya like,” Jamison replied with a half shrug, but Mei couldn’t mistake the slight blush in his cheeks or the way he kept glancing sideways at her.

She giggled and tore excitedly into the paper, revealing a pale blue leather wallet. It was rectangular with a matching leather wrist strap and a silver zipper with a snowflake-shaped pull tab. More snowflakes were embroidered on it in white thread.

“Thought ya could use a new one,” Jamison said, scratching the side of his nose.

“It’s beautiful,” Mei breathed, picking it up in her hands. The leather was buttery soft as she ran her fingers across the embroidery. “Where did you…?”

“Oi didn’t _steal_ it, if that’s what yer thinkin’,” Jamie said with a half-smile, “Bought it all proper like. Though I _did_ get a little help pickin’ it out…”

Mei giggled as she pictured the other girls trying to guide Jamison through the process of choosing women’s accessories. She imagined it was likely a rather ridiculous scene of Jamison being utterly lost while simultaneously caught in the crossfire of the girls’ differing tastes and opinions.

“D’ya like it?” Jamison asked, sounding at once hopeful and nervous.

“I do,” Mei replied brightly, clutching the wallet to her chest, “I love it! Thank you, Jamie.”

Jamison grinned, his eyes sparkling, then he gasped and leapt to his feet.

“Look, Snowball, look!” he cried excitedly, pointing at the air.

He held out his mechanical hand to catch something, then brought it over to show her: a perfect, white snowflake.

“It’s the first one, Snowball! Ain’t it a beauty?”

“Yes,” Mei giggled, “it’s very beautiful.”

“They said it might snow today,” Jamison said, a touch of pink in his cheeks, “an’ I thought ya might wanna see it, so…”

He trailed off awkwardly, and Mei felt her own cheeks blushing. She looked up at the sky and saw more flakes falling, and when the sun peeked through the clouds they sparkled in the air like little diamonds.

“Thank you so much, Jamie,” she said, “It’s wonderful.”

He beamed at her, and together they watched the snowflakes fall into the courtyard. It wasn’t always easy to spend time with Jamison. He was a very complicated person, and sometimes he was downright frustrating. Then there were moments like this, staring at the stars or watching snow fall, that Mei found she truly cherished. Her heart felt full and happy as she watched him laugh and catch a snowflake on his tongue, and she knew one thing for certain:

A dear friendship was growing between her and Jamison, and, regardless of his past, she didn't regret protecting that.


End file.
